"These people will prevent us from holding our ritual..."
"That's because they know we're much stronger than they are, don't they?"
I turned on my phone for a moment. And checked today's date.
December 19, 1608.
It was almost the winter solstice.
==
"Fortunately, they left a few days ago... It's a blessing they came right before the holy day; how could we not call this impure?"
Everyone nodded as the chief spoke. Their faces were filled with relief, and their bodies trembled with anticipation.
Burning incense that elevated mood and lighting fires, they drove away the night's cold and darkness. This winter was not as murderous as the last, so more people had gathered.
They gathered for the sacred game. Holding peach pits blackened on one side, they threw them at each other, keeping score and predicting good or bad harvests.
